


Past Has Tasted Bitter

by whatsanapocalae



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, Trans Male Character, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae
Summary: After a lot of pushing and shoving Vergil's got a girlfriend. Unfortunately she's not what she seems and when Vergil doesn't come home after a weekend away Nero and Dante go out to investigate. Even less unfortunate is that Vergil isn't who he seems either.
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 30





	Past Has Tasted Bitter

Vergil moaned and ground his hips, trying to get them up, to rise off the mattress. He grit his teeth and he shuddered, the vibrations coursing through his body. Erika put a finger to her lips, shushing him as she ran her fingers over his stomach, the muscles on display clenching against such minimal pressure. 

Erika had been kind, nice, especially to him. Nero had been pressing him to date and he had been nervous to but Erika had been patient and interesting. She hadn't pushed him. Nero liked her. Dante liked her. She was a bit boring but that was good, that was what Vergil needed then, he needed someone who wouldn't draw danger or ire, wouldn't touch him wrong and send him spiraling. He didn't want to think about all the things that had happened to him, he wanted to focus on the future. 

Lady had disapproved but that was more for Erika's sake than Vergil's. She didn't like him. All she could remember was how he'd worked alongside her father. Trish hadn't liked Erika either. 

He should have listened to Trish. She frightened him, reminded him of the worst years of is life, but she was trying and he should have let her try. She wanted to get past Mundus, she wanted to connect with him, they had the same trauma, after all, just on different sides of it. She had questioned Erika, had harassed her, had tried to learn everything about her, until Nero had laughed and pushed her away. 

A weekend away, just the two of them, Vergil had jumped at the opportunity. He was getting a better grasp on his relationship with Nero and Kyrie, the fighting between him and Dante was settling into a familiar rhythm, and work was going well, but Erika had smiled at him so nicely and he wanted to go with her. He wanted to feel her hands on him. He wanted to please her. She knew everything about him, didn't judge him, and he wanted to see just how much they both could handle in something past the gentle dating they had been experimenting with. 

He didn't know when the weekend had ended. It had definitely been longer than three days though since he'd been strapped down to her mattress. He had no way of knowing how time past, his sight had been taken from him and there was no rest between the sensations that she gave him. His throat was sore and his begging had done nothing but gifted him a gag. 

His whimpering was muted now. He couldn't move, couldn't pull free of his binds and the sigils carved into them burned his skin like white hot brands. Even if he could get his wrists free the daggers through his palms were sacred and he'd been weakened via wine that had loosened his tongue and tasted of bitter almonds. The poison had worn off but the oppressive air hadn't lifted and he was glad that he couldn't see for he imagined the walls to be vine twisted flesh with thorns that searched for his skin. There were more blades in him, Yamato shoved deep into his sternum to trap him, other blades through his shoulders.   
If it were one of them he could pick himself up, could free himself, but there were so many and they cut through his skin and his mind wasn't his own anymore. Or it was and this place wasn't where it was meant to be. 

He could feel it, his urge to submit, his urge to prove himself, his loyalty. He wanted to be good. He wanted the pain to end. New weaknesses had cropped up and that was why he was here, why he was hurting. Mundus was helping him grow stronger, was helping him purge everything worthless. His humanity had only ever slowed him down. He needed to be free of it. It was the humanity that hurt so terribly. 

The world grew harder, the air around him growing hot and licking at the skin that was exposed between the slits in his clothing, where the daggers and swords had cut deep. His demonic nature shrank and hissed and thrashed and the blades cut him further, made a mess of his bones. A finger to his lips, touching the iron of the gag more than his skin and a kiss to his cheekbone and he was left alone, the new letters that Erika had been carving into his stomach left to bleed and attempt to heal as she pulled off him and left him alone with his thoughts. 

He would be good. He wouldn't fight. He was going to be better. He wouldn't be a disappointment to himself or to his master again. 

\---

Five days without a word. Nero had texted and called until Vergil's phone had died, going straight to voicemail instead of ringing. He wouldn't have worried too much, Vergil was an adult, but he'd called Erika too, only to find that her number was fake. They didn't have her address, they didn't have any way to figure out where Vergil was and it was more than a little sexcapade if it was going on a full week. Vergil had work to do too, a portal had sprung up a few towns over and they needed him to close it. He knew that was coming up. He wasn't the sort that would put something like sex over work. 

Dante had been crawling up the walls without his brother too. He hadn't been like this before Vergil was found but now that he had his brother back but just not in his sights he was going crazy. He had all these wild theories and misconceptions of what his brother could be up to. Nero didn't think Vergil was causing any trouble, sure they had a really tense relationship but it wasn't like Vergil was chomping at the bit to cause problems. 

Things had progressed. They still weren't great, he and Vergil couldn't hold a conversation longer than two minutes before looking at their phones or their feet, not knowing how to progress, but there was the bud of a relationship and he could tell Vergil cared about him. He'd spent 24 years without a father so he was used to going it alone. That made it obvious when Vergil did something to change it. He wasn't good at talking or sharing but during a fight Nero had noticed that Vergil always put himself between Nero and the biggest baddest bastard on the field. When they fought he was sure Vergil was taking it easy on him, thought that on top of the Qliphoth too. 

The point was he could tell Vergil was trying to be his father and it didn't feel like he would just skip out after trying so hard. So he and Dante had climbed on the back of Cavalier and taken to the streets, just trying to feel Vergil. He hoped that Vergil wasn't too far, that they hadn't left for the woods or something, and most of the city of Redgrave was still in reconstruction, so it wasn't like they had too many places to check. 

There was a feeling, like walking through an uncured log cabin, the smell of maple syrup and freshly cut wood, that followed Vergil. It was extremely uncharacteristic of the kind of man he presented himself as but Nero had noticed it in quiet moments, that his own home felt a bit clinical in comparison. They didn't go into any of the buildings, didn't ask around, but Nero kept his arm wrapped around Dante's middle and focused on that feeling, trying to find it. 

Dante found it first, of course, and swerved down and alleyway to get closer, to draw Nero to feel it too. Dante was far more sensitive to the feeling and he had a feeling that was similar, though it was less sweet and more smokey, coming with grit under the fingernails. The feeling around both of them was a full scene and Nero hadn't realized just how well they fit together, that something was missing, until that first meeting. 

"His energy is weak," Dante grumbled as he parked on the side of the road, not caring that there were civilians around as he pulled Force Edge out of nothingness. "Somebody reeks though, you feel that?" 

He could. The entire apartment building felt like it and it as leading out to the street. It felt like a vase of beautiful and colorful flowers, left to rot and the water to mold. Nothing salvageable. It was something to cover up the energy signature of a demon, which had to be Vergil. 

Humans didn't feel like this. Erika had felt completely human. 

"We should have listened to Trish," Nero shook his head, heading up to the building and yanking the door open.

Dante sighed, following him. He seemed hesitant, not so ready to make such a grand entrance as usual. "You know, every single day, I think that a little bit more." 

"And yet?" 

"Call me bullheaded if you want but listening to others is not my strong point." 

"What is?" 

"Kicking demon ass?" 

Nero nodded, yeah that seemed about right. "Hindsight, right? Come on, let's go find the old bastard." 

Dante punched him, lightly on the shoulder. "Watch who you call old!" Then he was off, running up the stairs to where Vergil's energy was strongest. 

Nero stayed on his heels. There was something wrong here, something wrong with Erika, this apartment, Vergil, everything, and there was a voice in the back of his head that made him want to turn, made him want to bolt. He gripped the handle of Red Queen hard to keep himself grounded, keep him following. 

Dante stopped going up, turned to the door to reveal the fifth floor, and kicked it open. He only made it another three steps before he fell to one knee, cradling his ribs. 

"What the-" he growled through his grit teeth. 

Nero fell beside him, putting a hand on his back. He could feel all of his muscles tense, that urge to run growing stronger. It made his insides twist. "What is that?"

"Some magic or something? I dunno but I hate it," Dante tried to explain, "Something trying to keep us away and it's working, just not well enough." 

"No breaks, we're getting to the middle of this," Nero grabbed Dante by the elbow and hoisted him up to his feet, overcorrecting and falling the other direction. Luckily there was a wall to catch him. "How could Vergil be handling this?" 

"Eye of the storm maybe?" Dante leaned on him hard. Whatever the benefits of a further quarter of demonic blood there was, in this case it was a detriment. "Or he's not handling it at all." 

"Any idea what she's up to? How she's up to this?" 

Dante started to walk again, using Nero as a crutch. His hand was weak around the hilt of his sword, shaking. "Don't know, don't really care. It's stopping, one way or the other." 

They went to Erika's door, where the feeling was strongest. Nero was sweating but Dante's shirt was dark in patches and he was breathing as if he'd just run a marathon. They were in no condition for a fight. Nero quickly removed his arm and replaced it with a ragtime, hoping it would be enough to keep them from having to fight if it came to that. 

\---

He was on a tower, even though he strapped and pinned like a moth. There was this sensation, this energy, it was heavy and electric and hot, overwhelming him and burning through his armor. It was the heat of the enemy, a heat that he knew he was meant to destroy. He couldn't move though. He could do nothing. 

He opened his mouth but he knew there would be no sound coming from him. A good soldier had no need for words. 

The room he was in had no towers, was wood and drywall and paint, had nothing of the castle, was without the wind that came from the exposed top. It was more like the heart of the island, a space that wasn't the world of the living or Hell, and the pain of the swords and knives shoved into him felt much like the pins that he had almost, but never quite, gotten used to. 

A quick thudding, a few wild punches to hollow wood, drew his attention. There was the energy of the demon he was meant to defeat and had lost to, who had stabbed him, who he knew he was meant to love and had been betrayed and left to die, but there was another energy too. The new energy was sweeter, more delicate, could be swept away with a breeze, but it felt like a hot blanket, like the burning of nettles, and sough syrup. He recognized it too but he didn't know why, as he was, he couldn't stand the concept of any demon. The energy pressing against his own was a challenge, a need to prove that this was his territory and he would not share it. 

He could not stand. He could not fight. This was not his territory and he had no one to prove his strength to. Nor his loyalty.   
Erika. That was her name. The witch was speaking, her tones cheerful and naive, as if she didn't know that he was even there. He couldn't catch her words, only her tone, as she spoke to the demons at the door. 

\---

"Hey, wow you don't look so good," Erika said as she looked the pair of them over. "You doing okay?"

"Cut the bullshit!" Nero growled, his arm around Dante's side, keeping him as upright as he could. Dante was big and he was strong and that made him incredibly heavy. "Where's Vergil?" 

"Vergil?" she put a finger to her chin, "We had a weekend together, he's long gone home by now. Or he should have. He hasn't texted me or anything but he's terrible at keeping contact, you know that." 

He did. That was why they had let this be for too long. He didn't text, call, email, anything. He was pretty quick at picking up a cell phone and figuring it out, but he used it more for stupid games than it's actual purpose. "The whole building is under some fucking shroud of energy; something to keep demons out!" He used his other hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. "You want to explain that?" 

"I didn't know that, are you sure?" She pouted. She actually pouted. This had to be an act, there was no way she was telling the truth. "Vergil didn't complain about it." 

"I can feel him," Dante growled through his teeth. Nero looked over at him, his face hidden under his hair. He wasn't triggering but he was somewhere between human and his triggered form. Scales had grown over his cheek bones, protruding like black chunks of metal. His eyes were red and pupil-less and his teeth were long needles. "I can feel his energy signature in here, stop lying to me!" 

She raised an eyebrow. From the angle she couldn't see his change but she had to be able to hear the echo in his voice, they way it was inhumanly stretched. She took a step to the side and waved them in. "Come on in then, take a look if you don't believe me. He's not here though, you're wasting your time." 

They took a step inside and it was like getting hit with a bucket of ice water, but the ice was gelatinous and pushed Nero to his knees. He felt like the building had come down on him. Dante was lying next to him, face down, fully flat, as if he'd just become gravity's bitch and had passed out from the weight. He fought it, tried to get up to his feet, but he was so heavy, his clothing sticking to his skin from sweat. He was tired, he could hardly get himself to stay as upright as he was. 

Erika, on the other hand, was just laughing with a hand over her mouth. "Wow! You know, I always wondered if Dante was just pretending to be stupid or not, but Nero! I thought you had a bit of your daddy's intelligence. Now I just need to figure out what to do with you, if you're even wanted." 

She knelt down, grabbing Nero by the hair, and forced his head up, so he could make eye contact with her. Her expression had shifted, as had her eyes. She was no longer the wholesome and homely girl that Vergil had introduced them to; she had heterochromia, pink and blue, and they there pale and cloudy, her pupils completely gone. In the middle of her forehead there was a third light that matched her eyes, this one violet. 

"An experiment maybe, or a training dummy. Oh, I know! We can get you to hurt daddy! That worked before, made him realize that no one really cared about him, but those were just illusions, proxies of Dante and Sparda. Trish helped, of course, looking so much like his precious mommy that he couldn't tell the difference. Oh, my lord will be pleased!"

He didn't know what she was talking about but his chest seized up, his hands balling into fists. He wasn't going to hurt Vergil, not unless it was a fair fight, and even then he'd only go so far as to stop him. He'd proven himself to Vergil already, he wouldn't have to fight him again. Vergil had never said anything about this, neither had Dante, but there was the chance that Dante didn't even know about it. Vergil had told him so little about his past, he had no idea who this lord was or why Vergil would need to be hurt. 

"Your lord?" Nero spat, "I don't know what you're talking about and I don't care. You're going down!" 

She smiled at him. "And how am I going to do that?" 

But Dante had an answer for her. 

Nero hadn't seen it but he felt the energy spike as Dante triggered and then he was on her, slamming her to the ground before the skid across the hardwood. Already Dante was exhausted, flickering between his human and demon forms, but he was straddling her hips, pushing her down against the floor. 

"Get Vergil!" he bellowed, "Get him out of here!" 

Nero pulled himself to his feet, rubbing at the aching spot of his head where he was sure he now had a small bald spot. He wavered on his feet, knees threatening to fail him again, but he couldn't fall again. He could hear the wet thudding of Dante's fists in human skin. He didn't want to stop him, but he wanted to want to stop him. It made him sick, letting humans die, but he'd killed so many on the Order's command that he couldn't argue against it, especially when the human was as corrupted as this. 

It wasn't a large apartment and it was easy to find Vergil within it, just following his energy pattern. It didn't feel quite like him, but that could have been from the mess of other energies that were in there. 

\---

A beam of light cut the room in two and he hissed, trying to pull away from it but just carved deeper into his own chest with the blades. It left him quaking, so much pain that he couldn't make himself ignore, couldn't fee himself from. In the light there was a demon, white hair, sword on his back, bulky long coat. For a moment there was joy in his cracked and twisted heart, for he had been killed by a white haired demon before but then the joy shattered as well, turned into terror. 

He could sense Dante. He had not been killed, not in a way that mattered, by him. He would not be killed now. He would be made to hurt further. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He just had to hope that this time someone would be proud of him for withstanding. 

\---

The room was dark and so oppressive, the smell of copper and ice so strong that it almost overwhelmed the feeling of the witch's spell. Then, in the darkness, there was a whimper, not just the kind that came from a human pain, but one that went so deep that it only belonged in Hell. Nero couldn't see in the dark but the light from the hall gave him a hint as to what was going on before him. 

Vergil was still fully dressed in the clothing he had worn when he left for his weekend away, but the clothing was now torn in places, shredded in others, and the deep blues had turned a sickly deep red. In his chest were three swords, one all the way through his sternum, pinning him to the mattress laid out on the floor. His arms were spread out, hands pulled past the sides of the mattress and strapped with metal to the floor, knives through his palms as well. The last two swords were through his thighs, forcing them down, and more thick metal cuffs held his feet to the floor, legs off the mattress at the knees. 

If he could feel the spell Nero couldn't tell, his head was lolling in pain and what could have been fever from the amount of time spent here like this. 

Nero was supposed to get him up, out of there. He could still hear fighting from the living room, he still had a bit of time, but he didn't know where to start, what to do. 

Dante could heal. He'd seen him heal. He'd seen him crash Cavalier into a bus and get shredded to the point that he shouldn't have been able to stand but he didn't show any sign of it by the time he got his body out from the crumpled metal siding. Nero himself had grown back a whole arm when he triggered into his smaller demon form. Vergil had to be able to heal like that, he was the strongest of them, in some regards. 

The way that Vergil groaned and tried to pull away from him though, when he fell into the room, made him wonder though. 

"It's okay," Nero said, trying to keep his voice calm what with the spell putting him through the ringer. "Dante's in the other room. We're getting you out of here." 

Vergil was staring at him though and there was something wrong with his eyes. In the night sometimes his eyes reflected what little light there was like a cats. They were always blue or an almost blue white. Here though, it wasn't just his pupils reflecting light, it was all the way through his iris and they were glowing a horrible bright red. He didn't seem to understand what Nero was saying, didn't trust him. 

He reached out, fumbled against the wall, and flipped on the light. Vergil hissed, arched his back so it was lifted up through the blades by a few inches and screeched as best he could. It wasn't his voice that came out. It wasn't the way he sounded when he was in pain; but that was because Vergil didn't feel pain. Dante didn't either. 

Nero was on his knees though, crawling over, speaking but not knowing what he was saying. He was trying to tell Vergil everything would be alright but he couldn't get himself to. He couldn't hear his own words over the energy in the air, in how much he was struggling against the spell. 

One thigh free and he didn't even remember grabbing the hilt before it was free from Vergil's leg. As he'd hope the wound healed up faster than he could see, so it looked like it was healing behind the blade. He grabbed at the other and freed it as well, noting how Vergil was still whimpering, still thrashing, as best he could. He was like a wild animal, not understanding that he had to hurt to be freed, not recognizing that Nero was helping him. 

Nero shushed him but there was nothing there. Vergil was a fox with his ankle in a trap but he couldn't even chew his own leg off. His gaze was on the ceiling and the tears that dripped down his temples, tears that Nero had never before seen him shed, washed off the pink pigment in his skin like it was foundation, revealing cold gray skin in its stead. It wasn't his Demon form, there were no scales or spikes, just this gray skin that made him look less human and more like stone; though stones never reacted like this. 

He got to his chest and took a moment to put one of his shaking hands on Vergil's cheek, to try to will his attention back into the present. Vergil was murmuring something, or at least his lips were moving, but there were no words coming from him. There was no way to deny that he was in pain now though, not with the tears running freely, his red eyes closing so tightly and his eyebrows these terrible knots. Nero didn't know what to do, how to comfort him. He just knew he had to get the blades out. 

He grabbed one of the ones in his shoulder, holding Vergil down with his free hand, and pulled it out. Vergil could only turn his head away. It didn't make sense, he had enough demonic energy to heal but he wasn't triggering. He could free himself if he just triggered. He didn't know if that had something to do with the spell or not, he knew that he felt tired, felt heavy but if he needed to, he was sure he could still do it. The fact that Vergil wasn't was troubling; as troubling as the rest of it. 

He pulled out the sword from Vergil's sternum and a splattering of blood followed it but the wound still healed. None of the others had blood come with, he was growing weaker. 

Nero looked at him, saw how wet he was from both sweat and tears, how he was mostly gray instead of pink. He put a hand on either cheek, lifted his head a bit, made sure that his eyes were open and they were looking at each other. Even the whites of his eyes were red now. 

"Just a little bit more, okay? Just a little bit more, than we can get you home and I'll make one of those nasty green shakes you like so much okay?" 

Vergil just grit his teeth and whimpered. 

No time to waste Nero pulled the last blade from Vergil's chest and yes, he was healing slower. Nero actually saw the wound for a moment before it closed and sealed itself with a pink scar that quickly faded away. He breathed, panted, and left the rest up to Vergil, though he didn't seem to want to move. He just lay there, breathing, groaning, staring at the ceiling. This wasn't right. Normally Vergil wouldn't let anyone help him but right now he wasn't doing anything for himself. 

There was a roll of thunder that was more a growl, shaking the windows and jolting Vergil into action. It felt like the temperature had raised about twenty degrees, which usually was how it felt to stand near Dante when he triggered, but he was in the living room still. Yet there was a scream and the snapping of bones and then nothing. 

Nothing. 

The weight was lifted, the air felt crisp and human again, the spell was broken. Nero was able to stand up on his own, though he was tired. Vergil was finally pulling himself free, kicking the shackles off of his ankles and wrenching his wrists up, pulling the knives out of his palms with his teeth. They were safe now, they were free. From Nero's guess, Erika was dead. 

"Finally," Nero sighed, "Sorry about your girlfriend. I hear it's hell to try to replace a mother, anyway." He reached out his hand, offering to let Vergil up, but Vergil was still not responsive. His red eyes were on the door and his expression was that of horror. 

\---

The red demon. 

The figure in the doorway, caked in red, both blood and leather, with a sword thrown over his shoulder, looked down on him. He was already beaten, he did not need further humiliation. Or would the demon kill him this time and finally put him out of his misery? Part of him hoped. 

There was something different about him this time, in how he was dropping his sword to the floor and stepping into the room; he wasn't the same as he'd been the last time he'd shoved the sword into his chest. He was like he'd been before, like the hollow illusion that Mundus had created and tested him with. The version that had a kind face and such gentle compassion as he'd dug his claws into Nelo's chest and twisted, the version that promised him that he would suffer a thousand years before anyone would come for him, free him of this pain. 

What he didn't expect was that, when he whimpered, the red demon stopped. He was halfway in the room and Nelo had pulled back, moved around behind the new demon, the one that had pulled the swords from him, and whined, like some weak insignificant thing, not worthy of his master's love. But the red demon had stopped, hand still outstretched. 

\---

"Nero?" Dante said, his voice empty of his usual bravado, "Get out of there, now. You need to get behind me."

"What?" Nero asked, noting how Vergil had curled in on himself, had moved so that Nero was between him and Dante, and was hiding his face under his arm, the other wrapped around his gut. He had made himself so small, was hiding his vulnerable places, and he was doing so from Dante. 

"That's not Vergil," Dante explained, "Shit, that's who she meant. Their lord is Mundus. She was trying to get him back to the state he'd been back then."

"Back when?" Nero asked, scooting further between them. Vergil was afraid, he could tell, and Vergil wasn't afraid of anything. But here he was, afraid of Dante. "What did you do to him?"

"Uh, I-" Dante shifted, pulling back, brushing his hair with the hand that had been extended. "Well, look kid, I didn't know who he was back then. It was self defense too. I couldn't get around it." 

Nero's hands curled into fists and Vergil curled in tighter on himself behind him. "What did you do?" 

Dante took another step back, hands coming up in surrender. It was a move he did to Lady and Trish sometimes, but never to him. "I may have stabbed him a bit, nothing new. And I may have left him behind when the island we were on exploded."

He'd left Vergil for dead. He'd left him behind after stabbing him. Sure, they stabbed each other all the time, but they were on even footing then and it usually ended with one of them laughing and ordering a round of drinks. This was different, what Dante had done was different. 

"I didn't know who he was," Dante repeated. "They called him Nelo Angelo." 

Nelo Angelo. Like the Proto Angelos. Like those things that The Order had made out of the armor that had washed up on shore. He understood then, what had happened. Dante had hurt him, left him for dead, destroyed the place he as in, and he'd washed up on shore. If Vergil hadn't been hurt by The Order, if they somehow hadn't found him along with his armor, he would have been left alone and traumatized in a new place, and had just been wandering all this time since. No wonder he didn't get close to people, no wonder talking to him was so awkward. 

Nero glanced down at him and those red eyes shined from behind Vergil's arm, staring up at him. Under Nero's gaze he actually pulled back, pulled away further. 

"Get out," Nero ordered, turning his back on Dante. 

Vergil didn't like that, the way that Nero was giving him all of his attention, the anger in his voice. It was obvious in how Vergil didn't pick himself up but did sit upright so he could kick against the floor, push himself into the corner of the room. His knees rose up and he wrapped his arms around them and he looked so much younger than Nero had seen him, like a scared little kid, like he must have when he was left alone with Mundus all those years ago. 

"You can't be serious, he's dangerous like this!" 

"Get out!" Nero repeated, louder, and he stayed there, stayed standing, until he was sure that Dante was gone. He knew exactly when it was because when he moved Vergil turned to look at him and he only barely started to relax when Dante was out of sight. 

Nero waited a few moments, until he couldn't feel Dante's energy anymore and Vergil was even more relaxed, no longer looking around the room like he was just waiting for the blow, before he took a step forward. 

Immediately Vergil's shoulders rose up, that stress increased, but Nero had to get to him, had to get through to him. He'd dealt with scared kids; he was good with scared kids. Vergil was an adult and he was a demon and he was terrifying but right now he was afraid and lost and that was something that Nero could deal with. 

"Hey," he started with and Vergil flinched. He got on his knees, staying where he was for the moment. "Vergil, you doing okay?" 

Vergil didn't respond, just stared at him with those glowing red eyes. There were blue lines streaming from his eyes, almost in the same pattern as the red lines in Nero's own demon form. 

"Vergil?" he asked. 

Vergil looked like he didn't even know the name. It made Nero wonder, when he had been left dead, did he even know who had attacked him? Dante hadn't known who Nelo Angelo was, there was a chance that Nelo Angelo didn't know who Dante was either, didn't even know who Vergil was, anymore. V and Urizen didn't have Vergil's memories, perhaps Nelo didn't either. 

"Nelo Angelo?" he tried and that wasn't the right approach, had Vergil close his eyes, his lips pulling tight to show his sharp teeth. It was like the name itself hurt him. That left Nero floundering, he didn't know what else he could call him. He had to get him out of this though. 

"Dad?" 

That got his attention. It wasn't right, it wasn't normal, but Vergil, or Nelo Angelo, or whoever he was was staring at him, eyes wide. He still wasn't talking, was just watching him, but at least there was that. 

"Are you okay?" 

Nothing, more staring. This was getting annoying. 

"You know who I am?" 

Vergil closed his eyes and he was bracing for something, flexing his muscles, turning his head so Nero had a good target to hit him with and Nero didn't know everything; he didn't know anything, but he'd been the beat up kid who knew he was the one who would be blamed and he'd seen kids who had been hurt so badly that they expected every adult to hurt them, abuse from parents and foster parents and staff, kids who got in too many fights, kids who had proof the world was against them. Vergil wasn't a kid though and he never showed this side of himself, he never let anyone in, and he never talked about who he was before Nero met him standing in the roots of the Qliphoth. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. 

Vergil looked at him again and it was impossible to tell if he believed him or not, if he was afraid and putting on a brave face or if he was lowering his guard. Then his face twisted, more emotion than Nero had ever seen in him as the tears fell again, all fresh, and his hands came up to hide them, to rub at his eyes. 

Nero ignored all of his training, everything that he had learned from being scared and from helping the scared. He pushed forward, wrapped his father in his arms, and held him close. Vergil gripped at him, hands leaving his face to snake around him in turn, his hands gripping at the back of his jacket. 

"It's okay," Nero said even though he felt like he was going to shatter as well. This was wrong. Vergil was too strong to allow himself to cry, to be seen crying. He had to remember that this wasn't Vergil though, not as he usually was. "It's okay." 

Vergil cried for a while and Nero's jacket was thick and had leather pads so the tears didn't soak into his shirt or sit on his skin. He didn't move too much, just ran one hand through Vergil's greasy hair which hung loose around his face while the other sat between his shoulder blades. 

"Tell me what happened?" he prodded as the tears finally began to fade. 

Vergil just shook his head, still hidden in Nero's chest. 

"Can you talk?" 

He shook his head again, clutching tighter at Nero's jacket. 

"Okay, but you'll tell me later, right?" Nero asked. He was a good half foot shorter than Vergil but right now he felt so much larger. 

That got him a nod, got him something positive. He shifted, pulling away so that his hands were on Vergil's elbows, so he could see his face. Vergil wasn't looking at him, his eyes darting around the room and the glow had faded a bit, there was a dark spot in them that could have been pupil. His skin had a tad more color to it too, just a little bit of pink. 

"You ready to go?" 

Vergil pulled away from him and tried to stand on his own but there was a definite wobble to him, a hand reaching out to the wall to support him. He looked like a mess, his clothing in rags around him, his chest heaving, his attention on the floor. 

"Hey, no need to be strong right now," Nero promised, pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around his father's shoulders. He'd never noticed just how narrow Vergil was compared to Dante; compared to himself. The jacket hanging off his shoulders showed just how much leaner he was. "This is a one time offer for me to look out for my old man." 

Vergil swallowed and fidgeted with the edged of Nero's coat but he allowed Nero to wrap an arm around his waist and lead him out of the room. Eventually Vergil put his arm over Nero's shoulders too, making it easier for both of them. He reeked of blood and sweat and unmentionable other things but that was what happened when someone was nailed down for the better part of a week and Nero knew he stank too from all the sweat that had accumulated from the spell. 

There was a mass of blood on the wall and dripping off the counter, looking like Dante had thrown a pot of marinara at the wall. It was almost as chunky too. Erika's pretty summer dress was now as red as the wall, her hair cut short on one side just next to a long four gashes in her shoulder that went down to her mid back, almost splitting his in five pieces. 

A small click, almost a noise of irritation, came from beside him and he chuckled at Vergil's reaction. He'd expected a bit more, after how he'd reacted to Nero hugging him, or maybe it wasn't the hug, maybe it was what Nero had called him. He'd never called him 'Dad' before. He hadn't felt it was right. He still didn't, but it had worked. Perhaps, after the long talk they needed to have about all this, he would feel more comfortable with it. Vergil and Erika hadn't been dating for too long, not in comparison to Nero and Kyrie, but Vergil had still seemed very interested in her. He must have lost all of his sentimentality over the past few days. 

They got out and into the hall and Vergil grabbed at Nero's chest, bunching up his shirt in one hand. The pair of them stood there for a long moment and all Vergil did was breathe, inhale deep breaths with his face raised, shoulders shuddering as he forced them to relax with each ragged exhale. His palor returned to him, as did some of the whites to his eyes, just being out of there. He was still a bit too gray and the blue streaks shown through the pink on his cheeks but he looked more human, looked more himself. 

Once he was ready they moved down the stairs and that was a bit awkward but Nero noticed, for the first time, that Vergil favored the same leg that V did. It was a bit familiar then, helping him walk when he was crumbling, but this was mental instead of physical and he had no worry that Vergil would die at their destination. Dante, on the other hand, he wasn't so sure about. 

The moment they reached the bottom floor Vergil had to stop again. This time it wasn't to ground himself though, it wasn't to reconnect. It was that fear again. Nero could feel Dante out there, probably leaning against the side of the van. 

"He's not going to hurt you this time," Nero promised, "You know who that is." 

Vergil's eyebrows knit together, his flashing a bit more red. He was thinking hard but his memory was a mess like this, he seriously didn't seem to know when he was. 

"That's Dante, your brother, your twin. He's not going to hurt you, not like he did before," Nero continued. "If he tries anything he's going to have to get through me and I kicked both of your asses so he knows better than to try, okay?" 

He forced a smile. Vergil tried, and failed to mirror him. It was enough though and they were able to push out into the evening sun. Dante was right where Nero had predicted and he pushed off from the side of the van, mouth open and eyebrows raised, looking like he was going to say something snarky. Nero interrupted him with a middle finger before he got Vergil passed him, opening the side of the van and ushering him inside, setting him down in one of the seats. 

Nico turned around from the drivers seat, looking back at them. Her joviality was politely restrained as she looked them over. "Dante told me what's up. He gonna be okay?" 

Nero ran his hand through Vergil's hair, brushing it back behind his ear. "I don't know," He admitted, "he better be though, he's got a lot of parenting he needs to catch up on." 

Vergil looked at him and he swallowed hard and they all ignored as Dante climbed into the passenger seat with a grunt. He looked Nero over again and he reached out on his own, putting a hand on Nero's knee. 

He opened his mouth and it took a bit of work, took a few tries, before he was able to croak out two simple words. 

"I'm sorry." 

Nero put his hand on Vergil's keeping it there. "It's alright. Soon enough you'll be pretending I never saw you like this. Just let me steer until then." 

Vergil nodded and gave him a small smile that didn't reach his eyes or unknit his brows.


End file.
